


One of Those Days

by pherryt



Series: Kisses Bingo [4]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddles, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sign Language, The Last Straw, Trans!Clint, deaf!Clint, established winterhawk, one of those days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Clint's having one ofthosedays, when everything that can go wrong pretty muchis.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Winterhawk
Series: Kisses Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852864
Comments: 32
Kudos: 109
Collections: Clintucky Fried Bunnies, Kisses Bingo, Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	One of Those Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreyishBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyishBlue/gifts).



> Picture Prompt from greyishblue (Any similarities between this and one your fics I blame solely on the fact that this is YOUR prompt and is completely unintentional)  
> • Oh boy ever spill a little bit of your coffee and realize the thread you are hanging on is actually quite thin?
> 
> Also fills 2 squares:  
> *Kisses Bingo: Forehead Bump - Square B1  
> *Winterhawk Bingo: sign language - Square G4
> 
> I struggled with ending this. I felt like there wasn't enough comfort. I think i got it though. let me know what you think

Clint was having a day. But it was fine. He was used to that. Clint had a lot of days. Life had thrown many of them at him over the years. They’d started when he was a toddler and they hadn’t stopped coming since.

Sometimes those days were better than others. Sometimes they were really fucking bad. But some of them were just… days. Days stacked with little things that didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.

So what if his favorite purple shoelaces had broken? They were just shoelaces. He could replace them. That was _nothing_ to last month when he’d been kidnapped by the villain of the week, drugged up, aides taken out and he’d had to wait for rescue in silence, helpless to help himself.

He was still fuming about that. Clint should have been able to take the two bit bad guy out himself. He had more than enough skills to have done so. It just… hadn’t been in the cards, apparently.

He’d (sorta) gotten over that, eventually. After all, it wasn’t like he was the _only_ Avenger that ever got captured, trussed up, beat up and subsequently rescued like they didn’t know the first thing about being a superhero.

Everybody had days. It was a thing. And Superheroes might have more of them then most, what with all the bad guys on the planet – and sometimes the universe (and that one time, the multiverse) – gunning for you. Could hardly sit down for a meal without the Avengers Alert going off, seemed like.

No big deal.

So there was no reason why today should be hitting him harder than most.

Yesterday had been good. It had been great, even. Clint and Bucky had bonded over sniper practice, had played a practical joke on Steve and Sam, had decked out Tony’s robots in party hats and feather boas and armed Dum-e with silly string (Tony was lucky they hadn’t opted for sparklers) and then they’d gone out for pizza at this hole in the wall in Bed-Stuy that had _the_ greasiest, unhealthiest, tastiest pizza ever. They’d rounded the day off with stopping at a rescue to play with the dogs and then they’d returned to the tower.

It had been good and the first time in weeks Clint had felt able to _breathe_ , the band of tightness across his chest - that had nothing to do with his binder – had loosened.

So this…

This shouldn’t be happening.

It shouldn’t.

Clint slid down the side of the counter till he landed on his ass and hiccupped, covering his mouth with his hand and wrapping his other arm around his pulled up knees. He wasn’t going to break down and cry over spilt coffee.

He wasn’t.

A joke. He could still turn this into a joke, right? Laugh his ass off? With shaking hands, he dug into his pocket for his phone, only to remember he’d forgotten to charge it last night and it was deader than a doornail.

And that…

Without the ability to hide behind his snark, his own brand of humor, to turn this around so it wasn’t so bad –

Clint choked on a sob, biting down on his fist, as if that would stop anything.

And then Bucky was there, kneeling beside Clint, a look of such worry and love on his face that Clint almost couldn’t stand it.

 _What wrong? You hurt?_ Bucky signed haltingly. Sign was new to him, and it still amazed Clint that Bucky even wanted to go through the trouble of learning it for him. Clint tried to shake his head, to shrug, to make it no big deal, but the lump in his throat said otherwise.

_Bad day?_

Clint shrugged again, but nodded this time. He felt guilty about having a meltdown, about having a bad day after having such a good one the day before, like Bucky would feel it was a judgment on him that Clint couldn’t keep it together despite Bucky’s best efforts.

He knew that was bull, but knowing and _knowing_ were two different things.

Bucky reached out slowly and gently pushed Clint’s hair out of his face, then leaned forward till their foreheads touched. Clint closed his eyes and just breathed in Bucky: the smell of Old Spice which somehow worked for him, the scent of metal and gunpowder that seemed to linger on him permanently, the hints of the latest flavor of shampoo he was trying out this week under Natasha and Wanda’s guidance. Clint breathed him in and slowly unwrapped himself from the floor, till he could wrap himself around Bucky.

With ease, Bucky stood, lifting Clint from the floor and carrying him through the apartment till he came to the living room with the generously oversized furniture Tony had procured for them. It would have been ridiculous, except for the fact that it was perfectly sized for Clint’s taller, lanky frame and Bucky’s shorter, bulkier one to lay on the couch together in complete comfortability.

It was as if Tony knew that some days, you couldn’t be bothered to get up and go to bed.

Soon, Bucky and Clint were curled around each other on the couch, Clint the little spoon to Bucky’s bigger despite the size differences. The purple afghan that lived on the back was draped over them, followed by Bucky’s red comforter – Bucky got chilled real easy these days, from what he said. The tv was on, with subtitles running across the bottom – not that Clint was really paying attention - and Bucky’s hand was making soothing circles along the skin of Clint’s midriff, their legs tangled together and Bucky’s head buried in Clint’s neck.

Warm breath and soft kisses eased the lump in his throat and Clint’s mouth finally unlocked without a fear of continuing sobs.

“It’s stupid,” he said. “It was just… I don’t even know what happened.” Clint reached down and covered Bucky’s hand, pulling it around him in a hug and Bucky snuggled closer. Bucky obliged easily enough and how did Clint get so lucky? He pulled his knees up to his chest and Bucky curled around him in tandem. “It was just, little things, y’know? Broke a shoelace, my phone was dead, I misplaced my favorite mug, my aides are acting up again, and then I spilled the coffee and it was…”

He took a shuddering breath and felt the tears pricking his eyes again. “None of it should have mattered. Yesterday was so _good_ , Bucky.”

Bucky’s hand tightened around Clint, then slid to his hip, giving it a tap and a light tug. Taking a breath, Clint rolled over, but didn’t raise his eyes, just staring at the soft, worn, red Henley Bucky wore today. Red looked good on him. Hell, just about _anything_ looked good on Bucky. Bucky waited patiently, tracing patterns along Clint’s arm while the silence stretched between them. Finally, Clint looked up at Bucky, who pulled back enough to sign and speak at the same time.

“One good day doesn’t negate all the bad. Just as one bad day doesn’t negate all the good,” Bucky said slowly. “We can only do our best to weather the bad until they’re gone and enjoy the good when they’re here. You taught me that, Clint. And you’re not alone, doll. You don’t have to face the bad days alone anymore. I’m there for you, the way you’re always here for me.”

Clint knew that, he did, but sometimes it was hard to remember that, especially when –

He bit his lip. “I woke up, forgetting I couldn’t hear again,” he whispered. “That it wasn’t just some bad dream.”

Didn’t matter that he’d damaged his hearing over a year ago now, bad enough to need aides and relearn skills he’d thought he’d never need again. It still felt far too fresh in his mind and he kept hoping it wasn’t permanent, that his hearing would come back like when he was younger.

It’d been a blow when he realized upon waking that it wasn’t a dream, that he hadn’t magically recovered, that he was still broken.

“You’re not broken,” Bucky said fiercely, Clint’s eyes catching on the sharp movements of Bucky’s hands as they formed the shapes of words – flesh and metal, both fluid and beautiful. Clint reached up suddenly, when Bucky was done, and captured both Bucky’s hands and pulling them in close, pressing a kiss upon each set of knuckles before letting them go again.

“Yeah?” Clint croaked.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Remember that. We’re not broken, just a little dinged up.”

“I broke down over spilled coffee. It wasn’t even, like, a big spill. Just a drop. Who _does_ that?”

“Things pile up,” Bucky said, shrugging. “It happens. You had a big thing this morning that set you on edge. And then a lot of little things piling up. The coffee was just the straw. Like the time I flipped out on Steve because he was chewing too loud”

Clint giggled. “His _face!_ He was so affronted. _”_

 _“I know,_ right?” Bucky grinned down at Clint. “But at the time I was too grumpy too appreciate it. You helped me out of that one, remember?”

Clint hummed his acknowledgment, “I remember.”

“What do you need?” Bucky asked, and from the barely there rumble of it, Clint could tell he’d barely breathed the words he’d shaped with his mouth to echo the ones in his hands.

“Just this, right now,” Clint said. “Being in your arms. You always make me feel safe.”

“Me too, doll,” Bucky said, eyes shining. Clint tucked his head under Bucky’s chin and closed his eyes, breathing in slowly. Bucky’s arms wrapped around him again, one around Clint’s waist, the other threading through his hair. It was nowhere near as long as Bucky’s, and it never would be, but Clint had found he liked the sensation of Bucky playing with his hair, so it was a little longer than he usually left it, just for that. Nat teased him about it, but smiled knowingly all the same.

They lay there a while, warm and close, Clint drifting off with Bucky wrapped around him like a blanket, or a second skin. When he blinked his eyes open who knew how much later, he found he hadn’t been the only one to drift off to sleep. Clint stared at Bucky’s face, getting lost in the softness of it, despite that magnificent jawline lightly covered in scruff. Clint couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, from trailing his fingers lightly over Bucky’s face, pushing back the hair that had fallen to cover his face.

Bucky’s breathing changed and his eyes blinked open slowly, catching Clint’s as a sleepy smile formed on Bucky’s face.

Clint inhaled. “God, you’re breathtaking,” he said. “I love you, Buck. You’re too good to me.”

“Love you. Feeling better?” Bucky asked, his hands moving slow and sluggish, but clear as the words on his lips.

Nodding, Clint said, “Much. Thanks to you.”

Bucky’s smile widened. “Good, I’m glad.” He yawned, stretching, prompting Clint to do the same, feeling his spine pop deliciously. When they’d both settled back, Bucky continued to smile at Clint till Clint felt giddy with it.

“What, is there something on my face?” he asked, just to say _something_ in the face of how ridiculously light he felt with the adoration pouring off of Bucky.

“Now that you mention it,” Bucky said, licking his thumb and swiping it over Clint’s cheek. Clint laughed and swatted Bucky’s hand away. “Well, that didn’t work. Wanna go take a bath?”

“What _kind_ of bath?” Clint asked slyly.

Bucky laughed, shaking Clint as he did. “Just a nice, long soak for tired old bones.”

“You calling me old?”

“No, sweetheart, I meant me.”

“You’re not old, Buck,” Clint said, cupping Bucky’s face.

“Some days I feel it. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I do.” Clint leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Bucky’s lips before pulling away. He rolled off the couch and stood in a single fluid movement, then turned and helped Bucky up. “C’mon, _old man_. We’ll use one of those fancy bath bombs Nat got us this Christmas.”

“Let me guess, the purple one?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

Clint grinned down at Bucky, drawing him closer. “It’s like you know me or something.”

“Yeah, I think I do,” Bucky said, one hand reaching around Clint to tug at his neck, bending him down enough for their lips to meet. “And I’m so fucking glad I do.”

“Me too, Bucky,” Clint whispered, bumping their foreheads together, twining their fingers through each other. “ _So_ fucking glad I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> [ rebloggable Tumblr Post](https://pherryt.tumblr.com/post/628908599217963008/one-of-those-days-marvel-canon-compliant-ship)


End file.
